End: Slutty But Serviceable

Lois Lane sighed as she lowered her leg. She could still feel jizz inside her pussy, but it was too deep for her to get at it. The reporter looked at herself in the dirty mirror above the sink, trying to remember the last time she'd actually felt cum inside of her. Years, probably. She was normally so careful. Condoms, birth control...but she hadn't had sex with anyone in months, so she'd stopped her birth control...

A knock at the door distracted Lois from that line of thought. Angelica Blaze squeezed in, carrying a plastic bag of clothing in one hand, and a couple bottles of beer in the other.

There was no underwear, and Lois wasn't particularly sad about that...she didn't think she'd like to wear whatever panties might end up in the lost-and-found box at a dickgirl bar. What she did find was a pair of hip-hugging cutoff jean shorts, the kind that were so small they were basically a bikini bottom, with the pockets handing out over the thigh. Lois had never really had the booty for that kind of thing, but right now she needed coverage.

For her breasts, there was a child-size pink t-shirt that said I CHIX WITH DIX. Even with the reporter's small breasts, it was a tight squeeze, but it was clean and unworn, so Lois took off her jacket and soiled shirt and squeezed into it. Between the shorts and the t-shirt, her midriff and lower back were absolutely bare...but with the jacket on, it wasn't that bad.

Then there were the shoes...

"Clear heels?" Lois said, frowning at the cheap two-inch heels with the clear plastic straps.

Blaze popped the top on the beers. "There really wasn't anything else in terms of footwear."

Lois sighed and struggled into getting them on her feet, glad they were at least in her size...and that her wallet and smartphone were in her jacket pockets. She hadn't really lost anything, even if she looked more than a little like a stripper.

The reporter reached for her beer, suddenly feeling all the weight of the night on her. She often got sleepy after sex, but this was more intense than usual.

"How do I look?" She said, placing the cool beer bottle against her neck.

By way of answer, Blaze's baby-pin failed, the cock bursting free from the broken zipper again. Lois couldn't not laugh at the sudden salute.

"Sorry...sorry...beautiful woman and all that...get down, dammit!"

Bittersweet liquid trickled down the reporter's throat. Her laughter died down to a sad smile.

"Thanks," the reporter said. "For everything."

"Any time," Blaze had managed to squeeze her cock into a somewhat painful position down her left pants leg. "I mean, ah...I know we didn't exactly meet in the normal way, but you ever think you might want to...get a bite to eat? Catch a movie or something?"

Lois Lane's brows furrowed. She found it so hard to read Blaze. The dickgirl played almost pathetically innocent, but something about her made the hairs stand up on the reporter's neck.

Maybe it's just the cock, the reporter told herself. My pussy definitely feels like it's been assaulted with a deadly weapon.

"Are you asking me out on a date?" Lois said. "After fucking the shit out of me and cumming in my pussy on the dance floor?"

Blaze gave her the most endearingly pathetic smile, like a dog that had been caught humping your favorite pillow.

"I'd like to get to know you better," the dickgirl said.

Lois narrowed her eyes. "You want to fuck me again."

"That too, plus, and also," the dickgirl admitted.

"Angie...it's been a long night. I'm tired. And my pussy hurts. So I'm not saying no, but...not tonight, okay?" Lois paused. "I'll give you my email and phone number. You can message me. Maybe next week?"

"Yeah, sure," Blaze said, in a kind of wounded-puppy-dog way. She pulled an old flip-phone out of her own pocket and took down Lois Lane's information.

That...was that. Blaze insisted on walking Lois out of the club. Through the black door, up the stairs, through the crowded club. People saw the reporter's nipples clearly through the two-tight shirt, could see the fuzz of her pubic hair with the low-cut shorts. Yet no one made to cop a feel or take a picture. Everyone made way with Blaze at her side, and Lois wondered what sort of reputation the dickgirl had. A part of the reporter was already thinking about asking Angie about the missing women...maybe she knew something...but Lois could already feel her shoulders sag, and her head felt dizzy.

A bit of a luck, as a yellow cab was dropping someone off just as they stepped out.

"You take care, aye?" Angelica Blaze said as she helped Lois into the cab. "Until we meet again."

On impulse Lois lurched forward. It was a quick kiss...just a press of her lips against the dickgirl's...and then Lois sat back in the car.

"Call me," she said, tasting beer from Blaze's lips.

On the sidewalk, the dickgirl watched the reporter's cab go. She allowed herself a sly, secret smile. The night had ultimately turned out better than she had hoped...and with a bit of luck, she would meet the reporter again...and again...and when her plans came to fruition, the Man of Steel would know the greatest loss of his career.

Yet that was in the future...and for now, Lois Lane's night out was at an end.